


Gift of Sight

by kaitou_marron



Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: First Kiss, Friendship, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-22
Updated: 2014-01-22
Packaged: 2018-01-08 07:14:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,184
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1129832
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kaitou_marron/pseuds/kaitou_marron
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Takao sees more than the average person…in more ways than one.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Gift of Sight

During Takao’s second year of middle school, he joins the basketball club’s first string.  After a few games, his coach calls him for a private meeting. 

“I’ve been watching you on the court, and you have exceptional intuition regarding passing the ball.  How do you always know which teammate is the most available?”

“Hmm?” Takao responds with a raised eyebrow.  Waving a hand lazily towards the ceiling, he says, “I can see everything in my head from above.  Can’t everybody do that?”

The coach’s brows furrow as he stares at the student curiously.  “No,” he answers.  “You’ve got the gift of incredible sight; you can see things that nobody else can.”

Laughter bubbles out of Takao.  “Man, you make it sound like I’ve got the lamest superhero power ever.”  Thinking about Teikou’s starters, each with their own frightening, awe-inspiring skills, he adds, “I must have been at the end of the line when special abilities were handed out.”

“Don’t sell yourself short.  Cultivate using your hawk’s eye view in conjunction with your gameplay.  You have the potential to become the heart of a team.”

“Hawk’s eye?  That’s what it’s called, ehh?” Takao asks grinning.  Then his lips sober.  “I’ll keep your advice in mind.”  Despite his carefree nature, the coach’s words resonate within him, and he begins taking basketball more seriously.

 ***

On his first day of high school, Takao almost chokes when he spots Midorima roaming the halls.  With the memory of the other’s signature, arching shot emblazoned in his mind, he approaches Midorima with mixed emotions.  Part of his heart, still loyal to his middle school team, floods with humiliation at the recollection of defeat and flashes with desire to best a fierce competitor.  However, his rational side realizes that they will soon become teammates, and he wonders if recognition from one whose skills far surpass his own would suffice. 

Since the Generation of Miracles exudes magnetism on the court, Takao expects Midorima to project the same aura in real life.  However, the combination of the green-haired boy’s serious face, strange speech pattern, and insistence on carrying a lucky item causes Takao to burst into fits of uncontrollable laughter.  When Midorima’s severe expression sours further at the reaction, Takao finds himself thoroughly amused and decides to push the other boy’s buttons whenever possible. 

When basketball practices start, Takao quickly realizes Shuutoku’s expectations far exceed those required from his middle school.  He grits his teeth, struggles, and throws up more than he would like to admit.  At the same time, he watches Midorima annoyed that the other breezes through the exercises.  As other first years drop like flies from the club, Takao decides to set his standards higher. 

_‘If Midorima can do it, I can, too.  I’ll work until I can perform better than him.  I’ll show him that he’s not the only first year with the ability to become a starter.’_   He regards his teammate with eyes narrowed challengingly.  When Midorima meets his gaze with a cool, haughty expression, Takao balks internally.  ‘ _I’ve got to make him seem less intimidating.  Shin-chan,’_ he decides.  ‘ _I’ll mentally refer to him as Shin-chan.  Nobody named “Shin-chan” can be daunting.’_   He chuckles inwardly.

After a few weeks pass, Takao shadows Midorima by staying late for extra practice.  Slate-blue eyes follow the trajectory of yet another one of the taller boy’s shots.  ‘ _Damn, it’s still amazing no matter how many times I see it,’_ he marvels.  He laughs at his thoughts, which sound like those of a lovesick girl, a label unrelated to his emotional state regarding the other.

Clearly irritated by the interruption, Midorima snaps, “What’s so funny?”

With an easygoing shrug, Takao vocalizes his awe.  In the conversation that follows, Midorima demonstrates surprising perceptiveness, asking many questions that result in Takao admitting having played Teikou in the past, wherein suffering defeat inspired him to train harder for victory, a goal that has since been obviated by the two of them joining the same team.  Pushing his pride aside, Takao confesses to wanting the other’s recognition as a basketball player, but only after working hard to gain this acknowledgement.

On the surface, Midorima’s gaze seems as uncaring as usual; however, Takao sees the ice thaw and respect flash in those glittering, jewel-like eyes.

With this indication of acceptance, he relaxes and blurts out, “Before you know it, I’ll send you a roaring pass.  Remember it, Shin-chan!”  The statement causes the camaraderie to fracture, and he winces as Midorima’s customary scowl returns.

“Don’t call me by that excessively friendly name, Takao,” the taller boy commands.

However, Takao finds himself unable to stop now that familiarity has been established.  The next day, when heading to lunch, he approaches his teammate.  “Let’s eat together, Shin-chan!” he exclaims his lips curled in a teasing smile.

A hushed silence descends upon the room as classmates turn to stare at the fool brash enough to approach the stoic boy so casually.  With a glare, Midorima replies in a strained voice, “I’ve already requested that you not refer to me in such familiar terms.”

“If not me, then who?” Takao counters forcing himself to hold his smile, while wondering if he has pushed the other too far.

“Lunch,” Midorima relents without answering the question.

 On the same day, while in the locker room prior to practice, Takao starts another conversation with the green-haired boy, “Hey, Shin-chan…”

Upon hearing the nickname, their teammates attempt to stifle surprised gasps and fail to fake disinterest in the first year duo.

“Takao, I’ve told you time and time again to stop referring to me by that ridiculous name.”

The dark-haired boy blinks.  “But you keep answering to it,” he protests.

With a heavy sigh, Midorima says, “If you’re addressing me, I imagine you have something to comment on.  I only hope it’s not more of that infantile drivel you tend to spout.”

With this dismissive response, the rest of the team loses interest in the pair.  Although Midorima’s words ooze with callousness, Takao realizes obtaining any acknowledgement from his teammate marks him as special.  Had anybody else addressed the basketball prodigy, the response would have been an immediate request to be left alone.  Clinging to this shred of hope, Takao optimistically continues to build upon their camaraderie.

After two weeks of incessantly using the moniker “Shin-chan,” Takao continues to receive rebuffs from the other.  However, he can see that the taller boy’s retorts no longer hold any malice, so he tests his theory.  “Would you prefer Midorima-kun?” he asks playfully.  Giddiness rushes through him as he notices Midorima’s eyes widening just a fraction.

“It sounds weird when you call me that,” the green-haired boy mutters.

With this admission, Takao mentally celebrates his success.

***

Defeat functions as a catalyst for Midorima.  Although Takao hates losing, the change that occurs in the basketball prodigy causes hope to stir within.  Perhaps revenge and victory can serve as common goals to unite the team. 

However, Midorima’s transformation appears imperceptible to the rest of the basketball club.  After Shuutoku’s loss to Seirin, the green-haired boy attains permission from the coach to use a portion of regular practice to increase his stamina.  Only Takao witnesses how late the other stays to focus on this self-appointed task.

“Can I ask you to talk to Midorima for me, or rather for the team,” Ootsubo requests one day.

“Ehh, why me?”  Takao asks.  “You’ll discover he’s approachable enough if you try talking to him yourself.”

“You’re the best Japanese-to-Midorima dictionary we have,” the captain insists.

Smiling at the compliment, Takao concedes.  “What message would you like me to deliver?”

“Can you ask him to fully participate in the team’s regular practice before going off by himself?  Some of the members are unhappy with Midorima’s special arrangement and perceive it as an indication he thinks he’s too good for us.”

Takao blinks, his lips puckering.  “You guys misunderstand Shin-chan’s intentions.  I’m sure he believes that strengthening himself is the best way he can help the team towards victory.”

“You must be seeing something that the rest of us aren’t,” Ootsubo mutters.

These words drag Takao back to middle school, his previous coach's words ringing in his head: “You’ve got the gift of incredible sight; you can see things that nobody else can.”  Perhaps this ability applies to more than just his hawk’s eye perspective; maybe this gift of sight pertains to people as well.  He almost snickers at his impromptu seriousness, which contradicts his normal, laidback personality.

“Maybe I am,” he says eyes twinkling.  “Maybe my wider field of vision isn’t limited to the basketball court but applies to Shin-chan as well.”

“Don’t say things like that,” Ootsubo requests looking disturbed.  “It’s kind of creepy.”

Laughingly, Takao concurs.

***

As Winter Cup approaches, Takao notices that Midorima’s agitation increases.  “What’s wrong, Shin-chan?” he asks.  “You seem nervous, and you’re not the type to get nervous easily.”

“I’m not nervous.  Stop making things up,” the taller boy snaps with a sideways glance.

With his normal smile in place, Takao merely raises an eyebrow.

“We’re working hard…”

“Yes,” Takao affirms.  “I don’t remember throwing up like this since I first started at Shuutoku.  The team is giving everything they’ve got, so what are you worried about?”

“I’m wondering if our preparations will be enough for some of the teams we may be facing in the future.”

“You’re thinking about your old teammates, any one in particular?”

After a long pause, Midorima answers, “I find Akashi particularly troublesome.”

“Ok, Shin-chan, I’ll bite.  What about Akashi makes him so intimidating?”

“Akashi has never lost before,” Midorima answers levelly.

“Well, before coming to Shuutoku, you’ve never lost before either,” Takao offers attempting to comfort his teammate.

“For me that statement rings true with respect to basketball,” Midorima qualifies.  “However, when I’m referring to Akashi, I mean he has never lost at anything.  For example, I often played shougi with him during middle school and never won a game.  He has an incredible gift of sight, or perhaps more accurately foresight.”

Disquiet unfurls like smoke within Takao.  Midorima’s half-admiring—half-fearful assessment of Teikou’s former captain unnerves him on multiple levels.  Predictably, the cautious attitude concerning Akashi worries Takao about Shuutoku’s chances for victory.  However, he perceives a fondness in Midorima regarding the redhead that causes his stomach to twist uncomfortably. 

_‘Don’t focus on the past.  Have faith in our team.  Have faith in me,’_ Takao thinks wildly.  He fights the urge to grab Midorima’s carefully taped hand within his own and profess these sentiments. 

Inhaling sharply, Takao mentally separates himself from the situation, while concurrently trying to process his emotions.  In this moment, with his heart hammering against ribcage, he realizes, ‘ _I have feelings for Shin-chan.’_ Observing the green-haired male, who focuses on Akashi, he adds inwardly, ‘ _I have terrible timing_.’ 

Failing to note any abnormality in his friend’s emotional state, Midorima continues the conversation.  “Akashi’s eyes will see through our normal gameplay.”

Takao forcefully drags himself away from his newly discovered feelings and developing jealously for the team’s sake.  “What are you talking about?”

“Akashi can see the future with his Emperor’s eyes.  He can accurately predict other players’ moves.”

Takao’s heart drops to his stomach.  “You can’t be serious.  That’s impossible.”

“Have you ever known me to exaggerate?” Midorima asks his voice acidic.

“How do we counter someone who can predict our moves?” Takao wonders aloud.

“The answer is so simple that I’m surprised your pea-sized brain hasn’t already arrived at the correct conclusion.”

Takao lets the insult slide off his back.  “Why don’t you just tell me what you’ve thought of?”

“Even if Akashi can predict our moves, he cannot stop what he is physically incapable of stopping.”

“I’m not sure I follow, Shin-chan.”

“My shot’s weakness lies in the slow delivery, which allows those possessing a certain skill level to stop me.  However, if I’m already shooting before I have the ball, nobody would be able interfere.”

“How can you shoot before you have the ball?”

 “I’ll have to receive the ball after I’ve begun shooting,” Midorima explains impatiently.

Realization dawns on Takao, and a wide grin spreads across his face.  “Shin-chan, are you saying what I think you are?”

“Will you help me?  Will you practice with me until we can make this imprecise play as perfect as possible?”  After asking these questions, Midorima turns away so that only a sliver of the side of his face remains visible to Takao. 

Studying the cut of Midorima’s jawline, Takao wonders, ‘ _What kind of expression do you have on your face, Shin-chan?  You must have so much faith in me to be able to swallow your pride and ask for my support.  I can feel mutual trust between us.  What can I do to prove that your confidence in me is properly placed?’_

“Shin-chan, I’d do anything to help our team towards victory.  I’d be happy to work with you.”

“No sniveling if you get tired,” Midorima warns facing Takao once more with a slight curve to his lips.

“I can keep up with you!” Takao pronounces enthusiastically.

Two hours later, the pair still runs around the court.  Takao waits for Midorima to get into his shooting position.  ‘ _Now,’_ he thinks lobbing the ball towards the other.  He watches the orange sphere arch towards the hoop… only to hit the rim and bounce uselessly away.

“Ah, so close,” Takao pants wiping his forehead with the back of his hand.

“Again!” Midorima demands fetching the ball and tossing it towards the shorter male.

“Okay!” he calls back as he prepares for the next pass.

***

In the time that elapses from the Winter Cup of Takao’s first year in high school to the beginning of his third year in high school, his friendship with Midorima remains steadfast.  He can confidently assert that their presence in each other’s lives is irreplaceable.  However, he comprehends that Midorima views their bond as merely platonic. 

‘ _Our current relationship is fine,’_ Takao reminds himself.  ‘ _I won’t push and potentially create awkwardness between us.  Shin-chan wouldn’t handle that change well.  I know, because I understand him better than anyone else.’_

Takao observes that third year in high school, bringing the reminder that adulthood quickly approaches, facilitates a transformation in Midorima, who favors routine and stability.  He smiles when his teammate predictably asks him about his plans for the future. 

“Have you thought about what universities you’re going to apply to?”

Takao laughs and waves a hand dismissively.  “We’re barely a month into our last year in high school, and you’re asking about college already?  It’s way too early to think about that.”

“Nonsense, Takao,” Midorima counters with furrowed brows.  “One can never be too prepared for the future.”

“I’m guessing that you have your sights set on Toudai,” Takao says giving the other boy a sloe-eyed glance.

“Naturally,” Midorima verifies.  After pausing, he adds, “You could probably get accepted if you wanted.  I mean, you managed to get into Shuutoku.”

Takao’s gaze snaps upwards to read other boy’s expression with keen, slate-blue orbs.  Midorima’s narrowed eyes and clenched jaw transmits the message: _I won’t leave you behind._

“With your hawk’s eyes, you’d do well in fields of architecture or civil engineering,” the taller male suggests.

“Too much math,” Takao comments with a grimace.  However, this conversation holds more promise than any previous moment that they have shared with respect to furthering their relationship.  Midorima appears on the brink of discovery, only needing a slight nudge in the right direction…

“I’ll think about it if you help me study, Shin-chan.”

“As long as you don’t waste my time,” Midorima replies curtly.

Takao mentally translates this statement to mean: _As long as you promise me you’ll get in._   “I won’t waste your time.  I promise,” he replies, a ghost of his normal smile stretching his lips.

***

During a study session with Midorima, Takao finds himself drifting into slumber. 

“Hey, Takao!” Midorima calls sharply.  “Concentrate.”

“Basketball practice for hours followed by studying,” the shorter male complains blearily.  “My eyes are so tired, Shin-chan.”  His head drops to the table finding comfort resting atop the study guide spread before him. 

The powernap proves restful if uncomfortable.  As consciousness returns to Takao, the crick that has developed in his neck aches.  Blinking hazily, his gaze settles on the image of the other male seated next to him.  Green eyes, which normally glitter as harshly as polished emeralds, hold an uncharacteristic softness as they focus on Takao.  The gentle look morphs into a puzzled expression, as Midorima appears to undergo an internal struggle.

Hope flutters within Takao, as light and beautiful as butterflies.  He identifies this moment as the first one wherein timing has properly aligned for the two of them.  For the first time, Midorima seems receptive, a state that only Takao can distinguish with his perceptive eyes, eyes a coach once alleged could see things that no one else could.  Prior to entering high school, Takao never imagined that this ability could apply to a person, someone easy to misunderstand, someone he has come to love precisely because he understands.

“Hi there, Shin-chan,” Takao greets stirring gently.

A strangled sound escapes Midorima at being discovered mid-stare.  However, he recovers quickly.  “You were being so lazy that I was wondering how best to punish you later.”

“It’s okay,” Takao says.  “You don’t have to pretend anymore.”

“Don’t go inventing lies in your head or saying useless things,” Midorima warns eyes flashing with desperation.

Takao reads his teammate’s emotions easily and states with certainty, “You’re wondering to yourself how I can see through your carefully crafted exterior.”

“You’re spouting nonsense again,” Midorima tries his voice lacking conviction.

“Is what I say really useless or nonsense, Shin-chan?” Takao asks moving towards the other.

Midorima blanches at the advance, his posture stiffening.  Takao closes the distance between the two of them and brushes his lips lightly against Midorima’s.  After the gentle caress, he pulls away to gauge his teammate’s reaction.

An emotion caught between bewilderment and desire shines in Midorima’s eyes.  “Takao...”  Tentatively, he brings bandaged fingers to his lips and flushes in the process.

The uncertain Midorima in front of him causes Takao’s heart to twist longingly.  “I like you, Shin-chan,” he confesses with a patient smile on his face.

“This isn’t some kind of joke?”

“Do I look like I’m joking?”

Acceptance of Takao’s answer registers in Midorima’s expression.  “No…”

“Can I kiss you again?”

Midorima pauses, as if seriously pondering the question, before nodding.

This time when Takao presses their lips together, Midorima returns the kiss.  He tastes like red beans, and the sensation of lips against lips and tongue against tongue sends Takao soaring.  When they break apart, both short of breath, Midorima rests his head against Takao’s shoulder.

Even though the green-haired boy never utters a word, Takao understands the meaning behind the trusting gesture: _Thank you for being able to see me clearly._

So, Takao responds with what he knows the other needs to hear.  “You’re welcome.”  Feeling Midorima’s lips curve into a smile against his neck provides all the affirmation necessary.

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Misdirection 2014. If you’re reading before the authors have been revealed, happy guessing!


End file.
